


Pick of the litter.

by Roadstergal



Category: Colbert Report FPF
Genre: Closeted Character, Emotional Constipation, Gen, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-21
Updated: 2007-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 07:43:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1639559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roadstergal/pseuds/Roadstergal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Hyperfocused</p>
    </blockquote>





	Pick of the litter.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Hyperfocused

 

 

Bobby looked at the instrument with distaste. Nothing in its external appearance merited the expression on his face; it was a smooth, shining construct of white plastic with a few controls tastefully picked out in burnished aluminum. It hummed soothingly, a shining miracle of design and execution.

Yes, that was why Bobby disliked it so. It simply worked far too well.

The idea of a history-picker had seemed like just another one of his boss's whimsical ideas that would never come to pass. Yet the strange, winzed German fellow that Colbert had brought in, a man with eyes that did not look in the same direction, had, after locking himself in a dank laboratory with some busty lab assistants and a large budget, produced this machine. Its official name was a Teutonic word that started somewhere last week and extended into the afternoon, but Bobby just called it the history-picker. It would pick any historical figure from any era in the past, and bring that person into the present for a day's span. The scientist had also introduced a feature that instantly imbued the plucked figure with a rather good knowledge of English.

It had seemed like a neat trick at the time, but it had caused no end of problems.

Bobby had been put in charge of pulling interesting figures out of history for Mr. Colbert to interview. He had tried - lord knows, he had tried! He pulled out Machiavelli at first. After a strained interview where some rather nasty hypothetical situations had come to light, Colbert had muttered something about never bringing that creepy Dago onto his show again. So Bobby had pulled out Sigmund Freud. After an interview in which Freud had pointedly analyzed Colbert's love of taking large bites of oblong food, especially when watching The Daily Show, Colbert had stomped off to his dressing room in a fit, crying for Bobby to send the man _back_ already! Even Bobby's idea to pull up one of the fathers of Colbert's beloved country, Thomas Jefferson, had been a disaster. Apparently, Jefferson's hemp-farming and deistic beliefs had come as rather a shock to Colbert.

So Bobby faced the instrument with a certain tingling feeling of dread. Who to bring _this_ time?

Well, hell, he had nothing to lose.

"What an interesting spectacle," the man commented, his arms crossed as he watched the tape of the previous night's Colbert Report.

"Yes, it's just a little thing I like to call... my show." Colbert straightened his tie, a pleased smirk on his face. "A place where loyal Americans can come together and bask in the presence of a _real_ , red, white, and blue American."

"So this is the future of our colonies?" the man asked. "I will admit, I would not have imagined anything like this."

"Impressive, isn't it?"

"It is," the man coughed gently, "awe-inspiring. And you wish to speak with me in front of these people?"

"Well, yes - that's why we pulled you here. It's very prestigious. You write, don't you? I imagine your latest book..."

"Play," the man corrected gently.

"Ah, a play! You might even get it optioned. It's a big deal to appear on my show. The biggest agents in Hollywood have people who work for them who sometimes watch it."

"Indeed?"

"I've come a long way from my days on The Daily Show," Colbert continued, adjusting his glasses. "You wouldn't have seen it. It's nothing like the caliber of _my_ show. But it was my start, and I have to give Jon Stewart credit for recognizing my genius, and then letting me soar."

"Ah - Mr. Stewart was your mentor?" The man regarded Colbert with interest.

"Well, you could say that. Not that I learned anything from him that I didn't already know, but I had to start somewhere."

The man nodded, a glint in his eye. "Indeed. I know how an older man can partner with a younger to the benefit of both."

"It certainly benefited _him_ ," Colbert replied, jerking his head in the general direction of the unseen Daily Show studio. "And - well, I won't say it was _entirely_ useless for me."

"And your love for this man persists?"

"My... l... yes, that's what you Limeys call it, isn't it? That platonic, shoulder-chucking," Colbert chucked the man, as if by demonstration, on the shoulder, "buddy-buddy friendship two perfectly straight males can have for each other? Yes, that whole 'love' thing. Yep! I've spent worse time than my late-night pizza-chowing sessions with him. And he does have lovely eyes, firm buttocks, and juicy, man-tempting lips. Not that I was ever tempted, of course, being a straight, God-fearing, happily married man. Anything I did think just injected a little more spice into the old marriage-o-roony!" He winked.

"Yes, I can well believe." The man looked at Colbert again, and his voice betrayed a slight tinge of urgency. "However, hypothetically speaking, of course, my good chap - if you were to engage in carnal acts with another man, would that be legal in this day and age?"

Colbert sighed heavily. "It's shameless. Gays can engage in all _sorts_ of unnatural acts brazenly and in public - even kissing! Tongue-tangling, lip-rubbing, back-fondling makeout sessions, man-on-man. It's just not right for a straight man to have to watch that. It stirs un-American feelings, and it can be _awfully_ difficult for me to get them out of my system."

"I suppose I should be grateful to know it is, at least, possible," the man said, his eyes slightly moist.

Colbert cleared his throat loudly. "So - would you like to do the show?"

The man gave Colbert a grave, sweet smile. "I believe I do owe you a debt for this glimpse into the future," he replied.

"Right. Well, just come along this way, mister...?"

"Wilde," the man finished.

"Right. Well, it'll be a Wilde time tonight!" Colbert's overly-hearty, artificial laughter echoed up the corridor as he walked that night's guest to the green room. 

 


End file.
